


Guardians

by alan713ch



Series: Waiting for the Darkness [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Alternate Season 3B, Banshee Lydia Martin, Gen, Ghosts, Magic, Nemeton, Season Finale, True Names, Witches, there are more relationships but they qualify as spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alan713ch/pseuds/alan713ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The witches attempt one final attack on the Guardians of the Nemeton, stripping them from their powers. Derek and Cora Hale have to relive one of their worst nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, season finale! Took me a while to get it right (and I am not still sure I did) but here it is. 
> 
> If you are just jumping in, this is the culmination of a very long work, so I suggest you go ahead and give it a read - otherwise you won't understand what's going on. 
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, and if you think this was cool, remember to leave a review!

Rafael McCall entered the station and reclused himself in the small room he had coaxed out of Stilinski. The need of a safe line, access to his files, reports, evidence - all that he was accumulating to build a case around his incompetence as a Sheriff and finally settle that old grudge that had formed after Stilinski had arrested him once had felt like a victory back then, but now that he saw he was part of the enforcers he would have a hard time convincing his superiors that Stilinski was not a good idea. And even if he got him impeached he would still have authority over the territory, even if it was under Melissa. And apparently Scott. 

So they knew. They fucking knew. How hard it had been for him, to keep all his cases a secret from Mel, from his son, who had always been curious, always wanted to know more about his dad, and he had had to push them away. How that had strained the marriage and how he had finally snapped. That night when he yelled at Scott and slapped Mel and Stilinski had sent him to _cool off_ in one of the holding cells at the station. 

They had been friends. Once.

Not even when Scott had lived with him he had told him that all the monsters he used to talk to _Stiles_ \- and that word again felt dirty in his mouth, that bastard influence on his son - were real and he had to be careful at night. He had wanted to shield his son from the darkness and the darkness had found him when he decided to turn his back on him. 

Enraged, he threw the pitcher of water he always kept nearby to the wall, where it shattered. The officers that were with him looked like he was a wild animal - and right now, he was.

"Agent McCall?"

"What, Manning?"

"What are we going to do?"

"You know the procedures - if the territory has an enforcer we are to meet with them."

"But there weren't any enforcers."

"Well, there are now. We," and he spat the words, "have to wait."

"Are you sure? I mean - doesn't this fall over the superceeding laws? They are taking enforcement temporarily and just because they were attacked - "

"Did you see the little Snow White number my ex-wife threw on you? She is the enforcer of the woods. She inherited the title of Mistress from Talia Hale - we have to follow her word, otherwise we could cause a great rift in the land and that would be more detrimental to the population at large."

"I - understood, sir."

"Go - I need to cool off - No! Stay in case I can think of something. They may be in danger."

"But sir, if it's a supernatural problem, now we can't interfere. We are to observe."

"Don't think I don't know that! But this is _my son_!"

"Sir, if you want to excuse yourself due to personal conflict - "

"No. Just let me cool off for a little while."

"We'll be outside, sir."

Cortes and Manning walked outside where they met with the rest of the FBI agents under his command. He could see the concerned but also stern faces of the deputies - too loyal to Stilinski to actually offer a hand, but too scared of him to be a hindrance. He didn't need anything from them at the moment - he had all the information he required, and now the pieces were falling into place. 

Murders started happening in January. They were all related to the Hale fire, and if it was true that Peter Hale was the enforcer, he was probably responsible for all of them. Hell, maybe it was when the Hales turned Scott and the Lahey kid into werewolves, arming themselves with a new pack. The question was when had Scott been able of killing the alpha, and who had that been. Derek Hale was alive in Maine, with his sister. Hadn't there been another survivor?

Yes, Laura. Laura Hale. Scott probably killed her, then.

His son, a murderer. And he couldn't confront him about it. 

The second batch of murders was quite easy to peg on a kanima - probably one of the newly turned wolves went wrong. From the suspicious way Jackson Whittemore 'died' and came back to life during May, he was a likely candidate. If he had had a master, then the enforcers had taken care of him, surely. 

He prayed to the God he no longer believed in that it hadn't been Scott who bit Jackson. The trauma alone would've broken him mentally. Hell, he prayed to all the gods he had heard about it hadn't been Scott who had taken care of the kanima's master.

The idea of little Scottie with blood on his hands was what angered him the most. How could Melissa have allowed that? Had it been because she was in danger? She was never ambitious - that had been pretty clear during their marriage.

Maybe... maybe if it had been to protect her, Rafael would be able to forgive his son one day. 

A Jennifer Blake, who also claimed to go by the name Julia Baccari - who had been declared dead some years ago - had claimed all responsibility for the latest murders. He had gone to interview her and take her declaration for the Department of the Supernatural. A darach. That had definitely flipped some shit in the department when he reported back - the main question had been if she had finished all her sacrifices, because such a being would be extremely dangerous and extremely unstable. The woman not only had smiled at him pleasantly every single visit, but answered all his questions truthfully. She'd been able to confirm the murders of sixteen people - twelve in the sacrifice process, innocents; and four in a murderous rampage, all members of the werewolf pack led by the rogue Deucalion Ehrhart, who had been as one of the most wanted by his department for a while now - always escaping when they were about to nail him. She linked him to the death of several werewolves members of packs that had been decimated on his wake, and when she explained the purpose of it he had actually paled. A Demon Wolf, closer to Lycaeon's true form. 

He couldn't help but feel relieved that she had managed to stop him, even if it had meant the dead of so many innocents. When she told him one of her intended sacrifices had been Melissa herself he spat on the floor. She just kept smiling, like she could read him like a book. 

And now, witches. Witches that were idiotic enough to do all they were doing right under his nose. He would've arrested them hadn't Mel claimed the position as an enforcer - now all he could do was sit back and wait. If the witches succeeded, they would have to answer for the sacrifices they performed, but if they were drunk on power they would be difficult to deal with. If they lost, that would mean that Mel had killed them - and now he thought of her hands bathed in blood and he needed to stop for a minute. 

He had always wanted to keep them away. To keep them protected. To keep them _safe_.

He walked outside. He could feel dawn breaking - he had been up all night. It had been one of the few things he got right - asking Mel after one of her shifts to just walk and enjoy the dawn, seeing the sun rise from behind the trees in the preserve that dominated their little town. She loved their little walks. 

Mistress of the Woods. According to their records that meant that now she was host to the sentience of the preserve. She'd have to sit down in city council meetings, she would even have to think about entering politics - anything that would give her power to preserve the woods. 

She had never wanted it, he knew about that. And it had all fallen onto her lap effortlessly. A burden so great. 

He started walking back to the station when he noticed something weird. Everybody was getting out of their houses, walking outside as well. It was still too early for people to be getting ready for their days, and they were all in their nightclothes still.

At the station, deputies, officers and clerks, all were walking outside too. And he noticed it, in their eyes. They were glassy. 

They were possessed. 

"What the actual fuck? Cortes! Manning!"

But his agents were among the possessed. They were walking towards his old residence, and they were loading their weapons.

He ran inside and dialed the numbers of Mel's house. Of course the line would be disconnected.


	2. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not because he thought _his father_ would think them. But because _he_ thought his father would think them.

His throat hurt, his back hurt, his eyes were blinded because of the lightbulb above him, but he could feel himself falling back into the couch.

"Stiles!"

He coughed - whatever had gone through him had left his throat dry - but sat up. He could still feel his packmate's - Isaac's - hand clinging tight to his, and when he looked he could see the fear in those golden eyes. 

"I'm alright. I'm alright - where - Dad!"

He immediately tried to get up but his body was weak - he felt tired? No, more like numb, but his father extended his hand gingerly. 

Had they all heard him when he was having that delusion? Because he was sure of it now, it was a delusion. His father's hand reached his shoulder. Stiles realized they were all looking at him like expecting him to have an attack or something. 

"Guys, what's going on? What's happened?"

Well, at least he was sure he wasn't having any sort of seizures, right? Maybe he was still trapped within his mind? It did look like Scott's house, though. 

But then his dad started crying and hugged him tightly, and Stiles couldn't help but remember all the things he had thought about his father telling him of his failures and tensed. Not because he thought _his father_ would think them. But because _he_ thought his father would think them. 

"Dad. Dad, I - I am so sorry. Dad! Please! I am so sorry, I never should've gotten you involved, you shouldn't be going through this, I am -"

Somehow his father's hug got stronger, tighter, _safer_ and his warmth was flowing through his skin, reaching him in the inside. Scott had tried to explain once what it was to feel the wolf inside react to physical affection but couldn't. But now Stiles knew how it felt. 

"Stiles. Stiles. Stiles."

"Dad... I am..."

"Shut up. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for not keeping me in the dark. Thank you for letting me be here instead of making up the worst assumptions about your behavior. At least I know it was someone else, and not you."

Stiles hadn't really thought about it that way. He felt his father let go - he didn't want him to - and he took the scene in front of him. Isaac was still crouched next to him. Mrs. McCall was right behind her father, proud smile but sad tears in her face. Lydia and Danny on one side, Derek and Cora on the other, Alex looking like he was a bit starstruck and in the back corner Peter looking like a chastised dog. "What is he doing here? Wait, when did you two come back? What are you two doing here?"

"It worked." Alex spoke, and Stiles wasn't sure he liked his tone, something between 'wow' and 'score!'

"You said that was our way in." Derek growled in a... defensive? Possessive manner?

"I knew it was the way in. I just didn't have faith in it working - what's a pack of months of age against a coven centuries old? Never mind, we don't have time - we need to get Scott and Allison outside their own prisons, I'm worried that Allison may have forgotten how to eat and they are not exactly concerned by her well being. Besides, if they kill Scott they'd take control of you as a pack."

"I'll challenge them, and an alpha challenge within a pack is always one-on-one."

"And you think they'd fight clean? They'd fight as dirty as it would get. Their spells are still going on - they may not have it as easy now since Stiles is the key but they can still make Scott kill himself..." Alex's musings were interrupted by the huge howl that could be heard coming from the Warren manor - Stiles knew it was from the Warren manor, where they had been held, after all Lorena had told him that their household was where witches were their most powerful - and just like that night when Scott had called him he could feel the pull to acknowledge it, to nod his head and go running towards him, but he could cope - it was a very clear message: I am OK, I am alive, This is war. "Or maybe not. Even I heard that, and I'm a mere simpleton. Looking at all your faces I'm assuming all of you heard. What did the howl meant?"

"He's alive. He's alright - for now."

"For now. What happened, Stiles?"

Stiles looked at his dad the only way he could: full of shame and anger of what had happened. His dad, hugged him again.

"We already know they used your memories of me against you. They were trying to destroy your soul."

What?

"My soul?"

"You three are one guardian of the Nemeton," Derek explained, "Mind, which is Allison; Body, Scott; and you are the soul of the Guardian. They need to destroy each portion of the guardian separately. They used those memories that make you _you_ in an attempt to bring you to the basest of your form, which would've easily been stripped of the powers of the Nemeton."

"Think of it as making you worthless so the Nemeton would've jumped ship." Cora added. That made more sense that the whole speech Derek had spouted. 

"I know it was not true, but still - I thought it could be, and I should've known better than that!"

"They were twisting your opinion of your father. It was not real." Mrs. McCall's voice sounded hoarse too, like she had spent a lot of time singing or something.

"Would you guys please let me wallow in my guilt?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because you are Stiles!" Lydia's voice was firm and scolding, like all the times she tried to make a point, "You are not a coward that backs into a corner. You stand up, you figure shit out, you are clever, you respond to the challenge and you don't stay quiet. For crying out loud Stiles, you are one of the reasons why Scott is a True Alpha now, and why we were able to use I don't know whatever the fuck magic we did to reach your soul and bring it back! So stop wallowing in your stupid guilt, own it up, and let's get moving!" Stiles was sure there was a tear falling down his cheek. Lydia evidently saw it. "Now what?"

"Sorry - it's just that in my dream -"

"Prison."

"Gee, thanks Alex - what are you doing here?" Alex rolled his eyes evidently saying _not important_ "Anyways, it's just that that sounds almost like something my mom said when I was in my prison."

"Claudia? They used Claudia against you?" He could feel his father vibrate with rage.

"No! She - I started imagining the lullaby, remember? And then she was there, singing for me, and then I could feel the moonlight, and howling, and all of you were there somehow embodied in my mother, and she was the one to talk me out of the funk."

"She was the manifestation of the pack's magic." Alex kept looking at them like they were a particularly interesting science project. One that was going to award him a big blue ribbon. "The pack needed a form to interact with you - since evidently they were using a form you loved to destroy you - and it found your mother. I'm assuming you loved your mother dearly."

"Of course I did." Stiles spat. Alex just shrugged. 

"Not everybody does."

"We need to move." Mrs. McCall was looking at the windows. "The woods say that someone is coming - an enemy."

"Who could it be? Them?"

"No - they'll go to the Nemeton to try and strip the guardians one more time. Who else could it be?"

"I don't know, but they are many."

"Many?"

Suddenly gun shots could be heard. Everybody screamed and tried to duck for cover - Peter actually jumped and encroached on top of Lydia, making sure no bullet touched her - Derek grabbed him and his dad and flattened them against the floor - Isaac was on top of Mrs. McCall - Cora had reached for Danny - Alex just looked at the red staining his shirt and managed to say 'Well, shit' before he fell, unconscious. 

"The pies, the food - they controlled Chris, right? They could be controlling anyone who's had their food!"

Stiles just remembered that Lorena had fed him a pie, before it all had started.

"Guys, where is Lorena?"

"Really, Stiles?" Lydia sounded mortified. "There's people shouting outside and you are going to ask about the bitch who poisoned you?"

Stiles heart did break a little. He wanted to believe she had been possessed or something. The bullets stopped raining on them but they were afraid of stepping up. The furniture looked shredded, the glass of several windows was on the floor, and the smell of gasoline was starting to stench the house.

"Everybody out!"

He had barely screamed the words when the fire started to spread.


	3. Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course that had been the first place his mind had gone to. After all, a house on fire? Could it get more cruel? But this time he was not outside looking helplessly; this time he was inside and he was going to do his damnedest to get everybody out.

"This is why I don't like mountain ash - it only protects from magic attacks, but every muggle can basically shoot you!"

His sister was _pissed_. He was trying to keep the mind cool - he could feel his breath shorten and flashes of the past were invading his sight. He didn't need to have a panic attack right now.

Of course that had been the first place his mind had gone to. After all, a house on fire? Could it get more cruel? But this time he was not outside looking helplessly; this time he was inside and he was going to do his damnedest to get everybody out.

"Everybody lay low - remember that the smoke is lighter than air and will rise! Isaac - remember that werewolves can hold their breath for longer if needed!"

"Got it!"

He did a quick scan of the room where they were trying to assess where the clothes on fire had come from. Several places, apparently. That meant they were surrounded on the outside. A new storm of bullets seemed to confirm his theory. 

"Mrs. McCall, is there a way out that does not involve either the main door or the kitchen door?"

"No - the house is one building, no secret tunnels or anything like that. We are surrounded, aren't we?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Any memories this may be causing you."

"Mrs. McCall, not now. The woods - can they help?"

"They say there's people everywhere, and that they've surrounded us with mountain ash to prevent those who aren't magic to escape, but if I am not mistaken, everyone in here is magic now, even me and John."

"How would the Sheriff be magic?"

"He's my knight, according to the woods."

"Great, of course he is."

The woman did look at him with exasperation, but honestly he was more concerned about getting them out alive. Particularly since the house seemed to start hurting because of the flames.

"Do the woods know where are the bullets coming from?"

"The doors, mostly - the Police Department are stationed there and have their weapons ready."

"The squad is out here?" The Sheriff sounded bewildered.

"Not just them - almost every FBI agent is here too. It seems that Rafael is the only one not there. He never liked pie."

"Well, good for him." Sarcasm dripped from the Sheriff's mouth. 

"What are we going to do? I can try and call my parents - "

"No. We're talking several hundreds. Damn, how they got so many people under their influence?"

"Magic."

"Har har."

"We need to distract them. No matter how strong the magic is, there's always the instinct to survive. Mrs. McCall - "

"We need to get out still," the fire was not spreading as fast as it could, but the smoke was rising to dangerous levels, "I'll try to go all Snow White on them."

They went towards the kitchen door - it lead to the preserve, and the Mistress would be more powerful there. Before they opened the door they could hear birds attacking the people there.

"We'll be exposed." Derek heard the people shooting at the animals and he could see that it hurt Mrs. McCall. "Let's go!" He went first to evaluate. Animals of all kind were doing a great job distracting the possessed - attacking them enough to force their instinct to try and drive them away - there were also critters and bugs. But there, in the ground, the dark line waited for him. 

He howled in distress. He tried to break it but all he got was to be thrown back into one of the walls, effectively breaking it down and triggering the destruction of the house. 

"Derek!"

He immediately stood up and smelled for anyone inside - everybody was trapped between the hellblazer that was the house and the dark line that was the mountain ash, but at least they were out. Stiles approached the barrier but was rejected as well. 

"Scott would be able to break it."

"Well, Isaac, Scott isn't here!" Cora's voice was high. He knew her sister was entering into a panic. 

Suddenly, they all heard the howl again, but he - just like Isaac and Cora - felt the wolf in him rise with power - power that Scott was giving them. He looked at Isaac - at the Conduit - and the three of them approached the barrier. 

He felt his knuckles trying to give up, his bones crushing with the strength of the barrier, but he was not bounced by it anymore. They were attacking it. 

"Guys, let me help."

"Stiles, you are too weak!"

"I can feel the Nemeton - Isaac, do whatever you did when you got me!"

Derek saw his pack mate focus, and he immediately felt the rush of power, of energy, which melted into the wolf that had roused to the alpha call. They tried again, and the bones still hurt and the power still fought back but the barrier gave in and the ash dispersed.

"Come on!" He was about to see how to organize everybody when a huge moose appeared out of nowhere and immediately placed himself next to Melissa who mounted it easily, like she had done it her whole life. A wild horse was next to it and the Sheriff immediately got on top of it. They were the first to leave.

"Peter - put me down!" Peter had hoisted Lydia up and now he was running with her in his arms. Derek immediately grabbed Stiles and positioned him on his back while Danny jumped to do the same on top of Isaac and all three werewolves were running behind the Mistress of the Woods, with his sister on his side. 

He couldn't look back but he could feel the house falling down into pieces, and the rest of the townsfolk still trying to bypass the animals and go after them. 

They kept running until they reached the Half Moon lagoon, a small body of water in the middle of the preserve. There, Mrs. McCall and the Sheriff got off their mounts, Peter let Lydia down, and Stiles and Danny got off their backs. 

"Are we safe here?"

"I don't know if they can track us. If not, then we'll be safe for a bit - we ran really fast."

Melissa was looking at the lake. She looked like she was mourning.

"We need to get my son. And Allison and Chris. We can't let them win - not after doing all this."

"Stiles?"

"I know we were at the Warren Manor, but I wasn't exactly conscious when I was there."

"You seem to ignore the main goal of their pursuits," Peter was becoming a collection of contradictions: he didn't seem to be capable of making a decision without Lydia's consent, but as soon as he could be useful to the pack he would revert back to his old self, "which is to strip the Nemeton of its powers. If they couldn't get to reduce the guardians to a pitiful state, then they'll go with the more classical route."

"Sacrifice."

"And if I recall correctly, the guardians have to be entombed in the Nemeton, don't they, Derek? That's what Alex said."

"Stiles, you stay here."

"Are you kidding me? Do you really think I'm gonna stay here while you go play Big Damned Heroes?"

"Stiles, if they get to the three of you they'll be able to finish whatever ritual they are planning!"

"No." The Sheriff's voice seemed calmed, but they could all hear the anger and the authority behind them. "Right now the worst thing we can do is reduce our strength by splitting up. We still don't know if the townsfolk are coming after us, and they are hordes. If we are split up they can capture Stiles as easily. We will stay together. Derek, Isaac, you'll be in charge of protecting him at all costs. Peter, you are protecting Lydia - not that I think you can do anything else. Danny, go home."

"No. I am part of this pack. I will do anything that it takes to protect it."

"Alright. Cora, you are with him. Any moonsinger tricks that can help us right now?"

"I may be able to summon moonlight - but I don't know if it'll help only us, or everybody - and I wouldn't want to help them witches."

"We'll test that theory. Peter, will they need to move Allison and Scott to the Nemeton, or just entombing them in the preserve would be enough?"

"The closer to the Sanctum, the better."

"Then we need to go there, we may even be able to surprise them if we get there first. Any questions?"

Derek wanted to ask what they were going to do when they showed up there, but he had the feeling nobody knew, and saying 'show them what happens when they mess with our pack' sounded both too cocky and too broad to be satisfying. Besides, if no one said it, no one could jinx it. 

Mrs. McCall got back up on her moose, and the Sheriff on the horse. The kids got on the backs of their respective werewolves. Before Derek could run he heard Stiles chuckle.

"What?"

"Sorry. I - it's just - do you know? Alex is immortal."

"So?"

"He's gonna come back to life in the middle of a pile of rubble. I just pictured that."


	4. The Keeper of the Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The animal just shrugged. The girl would continue screaming his name. He kept ignoring her.

The girl was screaming at him, trying to get his attention. But he had been ordered to stand guard, and so he did. 

"Dad! Dad, please!"

The loup-garou had just howled a roar of war - he was signalling his pack his position. They would have to either kill it or move it immediately, otherwise the pack would know where to attack. He waited for The Crone to give the order. 

"How... how? You broke our curse? Richie, Casey, Paulina..." The Crone was histerical, trying to assess the dead of the three witches in charge of each of the sacrifices. She was showing weakness towards her enemies, but they had evidently foiled her plans. "My children..."

"Mother..." The Mother was looking at the Crone with fear. Like she was expecting some sort of breakdown. The Crone grabbed some dust from one of her containers and threw it at the circle that imprisoned the werewolf, making the barrier shine in a red light. When it flashed down, blood was coming from his mouth, and he looked like he had been punched in the face. 

"How did you do it? You were all mine, MINE!"

The animal just shrugged. The girl would continue screaming his name. He kept ignoring her. 

"Shut up, girl! That's not your father anymore, that's my plaything!" The girl pointedly ignored the Crone, so the Crone ordered him to cut his arm. He did it without damaging any nerve or opening any important vein, just to show the girl that he was obedient to the Crone. The blood ran warm against his arm, staining the clothes he was wearing. That finally shut the girl up. 

And yet, a word resonated in his brain. _Dad_.

Chris blinked for a moment, trying to understand where he was.

The Crone moved a hand to him and he stood up in guard. She had made her point clear. 

"You broke Fermat's curse, and that's nigh impossible. And the mongrel is no longer under the torture spell. The soul of the guardian escaped, and you three killed what little is left of my coven. Do you really think I'm gonna let you live now?"

"You attacked my sworn brother, the girl my adopted brother likes, my mom, her boyfriend and the friend I made this year. My pack. Oh, and you have a member under your mind whammies. Do you really think _they_ are going to let _you_ live?"

"We'll see. Sabrina, help me!"

"What are we doing now, mother?"

"Killing his pack."

He saw the fear in the wolf, but he didn't react more forcefully. Either he was bidding his time or he had such a connection to his pack he knew they were not in immediate danger. Or he trusted them enough to get themselves out of it without any problem. To have such control was a formidable ability in a werewolf. 

Chris pondered for a second - Scott had called him a member of the pack. 

The soldier just stood there, waiting for the Crone to give him orders. The Mother had her eyes closed, commanding those under her spell due to her blood magic. 

"Dad, please!"

"Shut it, girl!" The Crone seemed to get angrier and angrier at the girl for insisting in getting his attention. "You, get the ropes - we'll need to move these creatures to the Nemeton to strip it of its powers." 

He obeyed. When he got back, the Mother was on her knees, barely holding her breath, blood trickling out of her mouth, while the Crone was tending to her.

"Don't worry, dear, when we have the Sanctum this will be like childplay."

"When. When, when when when. Mother, we've been stuck in your goddamned when for months now! When we test the guardians. When we capture the moonsinger. When we strip them of what made the Nemeton choose them. We are losing, mother, maybe it's time we just give up."

"We can't give up! Don't you see how much power we'll have?"

"There's a price, you know." The girl spoke.

"Of course we know. Darkness. The constant fear of being attacked. The constant wonder of not falling prey to the temptation of ruling the world. Well, I spit in your Darkness. We'll take the power and make great improvements for all the supernatural with it. We'll take the magic out of hiding and make sure those who dare not to practice it will fear us. We'll make the FBI run away with fear the way they should, continuing their _sacred duty_ of murdering all of us. Witches, werewolves, vampires, kitsunes. You think you've seen Darkness boy? You are nothing but a babe barely out of his diapers. And I don't care if I have to kill you in order to finally achieve it. All of you." She smiled as the howl of distress could be heard from far away. 

"Derek?" The boy looked in the direction of the howl - and it was a wonder he could tell its specific location, being underground, and answered immediately. The soldier had never heard that kind of howl before.

Chris wondered if it was one of those things that made True Alphas things of wonders. 

"Shut it!" The Crone tried to use her magic to crush the boy's windpipe, but she couldn't stop the sound. Enraged, she came to the soldier and grabbed one of the wolfsbane guns, and shot the wolf until he shut up, writhing in pain. The girl screamed from her prison but didn't move, knowing it would be pointless.

Chris' hands twitched, like they longed to close around the old woman's neck. 

He stood there without moving, waiting for her orders. 

"Bind him. Now. And you, dear, if you try to pull one of your acrobatic movements I'll have your father shoot you and then I'll release his consciousness enough for him to realize what he's done. Do you really want that on his soul?" The girl backed down, defeated, though her eyes were telling another story. He just grabbed the ropes and went to the wolf. 

Chris made sure the rope was not too tight, and the amount of skin touching was minimal. The bullets had landed in non-lethal portions of the body, but Scott would need a dose of burnt monkshood in order to heal properly or he would die in a couple of days. 

The soldier approached the girl who let herself be bound. She just kept calling him Dad, like those words held some sort of meaning to him. To appease the Crone he put a strip of cloth in her mouth, to keep her from speaking. 

Chris wanted to do it softly but knew that he couldn't raise the Crone's suspicions. He just needed to keep remembering that he was Chris Argent, and that it was his daughter who they intended to sacrifice and he was not going to let them do that.

"Well, is it done?"

The soldier nodded at the Crone. She just smiled.

"Well, since your soldiers didn't answer to your distress, I can safely assume that your pack is done, mongrel. We'll need to get the Fool's soul, but with him dead that will be easy. Let's go." She motioned the soldier to drag both of them while the surviving witches and the Mother followed her, gathering the stuff they needed for their ritual. He dumped both of them in the back of the SUV that had been assigned to him while the witches climbed in the sports car the Crone favored so much. 

"What is it?"

He just nodded at the opened gate. Daylight.

"Oh, sweetie, we have the control of the townsfolk - nobody will stop us. We don't need to wait for the dark to envelop us. Let's go."

She turned on her car and left. He climbed in the dark vehicle and drove.

Chris took out his cellphone and started typing. Before he had lost his mind to the witches he had developed some code words with John in case of emergencies. 

Chris hoped he could report that he was still possessed, but that at least he could tell them that they were heading for the Nemeton. Chris hoped that he could let them know what they were intending to do.


	5. Allison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever happened, she would not cry. This was not the moment to do it. She'd do it when they were safe, when they were sound, when they had defeated them.

Whatever happened, she would not cry. This was not the moment to do it. She'd do it when they were safe, when they were sound, when they had defeated them. 

Right now was the time to plan and see what they could do.

Scott was healing. Slowly, painfully, but she knew he was healing. He may even be able to fight the wolfsbane if he let the Nemeton in. After all, one of the sets was healers. 

She knew that she'd had her daggers if she wished for them. Just like they had cometh to her in her prison, when she had fought that illusion of herself. 

She didn't know how she knew that. It was the same way she knew they were all alright - Stiles, and because they were near Stiles, the rest of the pack. 

They had done something. To escape their spells. They had accepted the Nemeton. 

They had taken it in, the Darkness? 

Somehow the weight on her heart felt the same, but the load on her shoulders felt lighter. Like there was something there with her, supporting it. 

Well, right now she needed to get out of the problem alive, and get Scott and her dad with her. They could worry about the Darkness later. 

"Allison..."

Scott's voice was muffled through his pain. She leveled her eyes with his.

"Are you OK?"

She nodded. She also made sure he understood they shouldn't be talking with her father at front.

But he had seen it, in his eyes. That's why she had been so insistent. Her father was _fighting_.

They would not take Chris Argent down, she was sure of it. 

"Allison - did you feel it too? When we broke it?"

She nodded. Not only when they broke their prisons - she could feel it now.

"It's healing me."

She tried to express it with her eyes. _Good_. 

"We're in this neck deep, aren't we?"

She nodded slightly. What was he doing?

"I... whatever happens there, please, keep me grounded. You were my anchor, and now you are not because you are with Isaac, but if anyone can bring me back from the Darkness is you and Stiles. Please."

He was readying himself to go full wolf on them. 

Actually, she thought that it felt under the category of defending those who couldn't defend themselves. That was the whole town - from what she heard, they had enslaved it. She agreed with having to wipe them out. 

But this was Scott. He would never kill, if he could avoid it. 

She broke and a tear came out of her eye. Grimacing, Scott tried to reach it and wipe it away, but all he ended up doing was getting the wolfsbane laced ropes against his skin where it would burn like a rash. 

_We are in this together, Scott. You may be the alpha, but you are not alone._

He looked at her, like he had heard what she was thinking. But resigned, he nodded. 

She felt it. They were reaching the Nemeton. 

But the Nemeton was supposed to be in a barren clearing, a stump where they stood in their dreams, claiming the power to get rid of the nightmares. But they had reached a different clearing, because in this one a huge oak, a thousand years old at least, stood in the middle.

No. That was the Nemeton. Restored to power. 

Her father stopped the car and got them off. She could see it there, the conflict, his father fighting the spell of the witches and all she could do now was to think of him, of him and her, and hope that he could see the memories in her eyes the same way she seemed to be able to see his soul in his. 

He was gentle when he got them off. But then the eldest witch came and slapped her in the face. 

"So you've bonded to it, huh? You've completed your ritual. Virgins, Warriors, Healers, Philosophers, _Guardians_. You've finally accepted your end of the bargain. Well, it's just gonna make it more painful to you."

Allison didn't say anything - just stood tall and proud. Scott was still weak, she could feel it, but she was sure he was healing - all the monkshood had abandoned his system. 

The witches moved them towards the trunk of the Nemeton, and started chanting a ritual. She could see the doubt in the eyes of the other three, but the confidence of the eldest one made it for all four. Her father didn't move. 

Two witches went and held Scott down. The old one held a knife high, ready to slit her alpha's throat. 

She wished for her daggers. They were in her hands, ready to let her cut the ropes out. 

She heard the gunshot - her father was finally free. He had managed to injure the witch, but not kill her. 

"How dare you? How dare you interrupt me?" The crone used some sort of magic to throw him away. However, in that brief flash of distraction, Scott was able to overcome his captors, and she cut her ropes - and put a knife to the neck of the third witch, the one who seemed to be the Crone's daughter. But the Crone had managed to hold Scott by the neck with magic. 

"Ah. An impasse, it seems. Why don't the rest of you come out? I'd rather do this with an audience!"

"Mother!" 

Allison could feel the fear of her captive. 

The rest of the pack came out of the woods, abandoning what little protection they were receiving from them. Stiles was at front, next to Mrs. McCall, and the Sheriff and Derek Hale were flanking them. Behind, Lydia, Danny and Cora Hale came strolling. Peter Hale was at the back slightly to the right of Lydia, guarding her like a dog. 

Scott started struggling in his bonds, trying to protect his pack, but it seemed that the magic was too much. He hadn't healed completely.

"Mother..." A tear came out of the witch's eye.

"Let him go, and I won't slice your daughter's neck!"

"They say that the mind can plan strategies in the blink of an eye. I have to admit, I do value my daughter's life, but then again, with the power of the Nemeton I'd be able to bring her back."

"Mother?"

"Don't worry Sabrina. You I can bring back. All of our coven but Lorena. The Banshee's curse..." For a second only regret showed in the old witch's face. Allison pressed her knives - where they hers? Or were they the Nemeton's? - closer to the woman's neck, a drop of blood showing on her skin. Allison's father had his guns out pointing at the crone, and she was sure the fauna of the woods were at Mrs. McCall disposal. "No matter. Let's begin."

She walked to Scott, and the closer she got the stronger her magic grip seemed to crush him. To torture him. The distance between them was less than three feet and his eyes were crimson red, the alpha looking to attack the menace against his pack. Allison knew it didn't matter if she killed the witch or not, and they were predators, not killers. 

They protected those who couldn't protect themselves. 

The crone put the knife in Scott's neck, and sliced. Mrs. McCall howled in anger and she could feel the vibrations in all the members of her pack. 

All but one.

Lydia.

Lydia hadn't screamed. Lydia hadn't predicted anyone's death. 

Allison smiled. 

Scott's wound closed as soon as the witch inflicted it. 

"What?"

"You said so yourself. We've taken our end of the bargain."

Scott's claws came out and lashed at the witch's face. She stepped back, blood trickling down. Allison could feel the magic releasing Scott and she saw him slam the old woman against the Nemeton. 

"You want power? You want this power? Answer me!"

The witch tried to stand up, but it was obvious that her age was working against her. And yet she looked at Scott with hatred in her eyes. 

"Yes. I want that power."

"Then take it."

The witch looked at him, like she didn't understand. But then a noise could be heard, and her face showed true fear for the first time. It was first a branch that grabbed her wrist when she tried to move it to launch Scott the same way he had launched Allison's father. And then another branch, and then she was hoisted up and pressed against the tree, where the bark seemed to grow around her. Pulling her closer, _absorbing_ her. She screamed in fear, called the name of her daughter, of the other witches, but nothing could be done - the Nemeton had swallowed her whole. 

Scott was breathing heavily, looking at what he had done. 

No.

At what they had done.

"Please..."

Allison heard the witch she was holding plead for her life. Scott looked at her, and nodded. She let her go. But the witch didn't move. Not even when Scott approached her. 

"You came into this town and stirred trouble, trying to destroy us in order to gain something that didn't belong to you. How do you declare yourself?"

"Guilty."

"You tried not only to harm me, or my pack, or my sworn family. You also attacked the whole town in an attempt to smoke us out, causing grief and despair among the citizens of this town. How do you declare yourself?"

"Guilty."

"Why did you do all this?"

"Power."

"Do you still want power?"

"No."

"What do you want?"

"To live."

"Then leave. And never come back."

The witch nodded. Then all three of them were running, getting into the car and driving away. Allison could feel their magic dying - her father was her father once more, and she ran to hug him and let herself cry. But Scott wasn't done.

"And to those who are there, hiding, because you didn't know who would win, listen! I am one of the three chosen Guardians of this Sanctuary, and Alpha of Beacon Hills. If you are seeking Sanctuary, you are welcome to stay; but if you are looking for power, let this be an example of what you'll face looking for it!" He had kept the red eyes all through his speech, until he was sure he had been heard. Then he closed his eyes and let himself fall to his knees. 

She immediately went to him, and Stiles was there as well. The three of them suddenly felt better, like they were complete. 

The rest of the pack followed, including her father. Nobody said anything against him - they all just hugged together.


	6. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But then, the picture of his mother smiled at him from the counter. Maybe they were going to be alright.

They just stood there. All of them. 

He could hear the Sanctuary's song now. He had been aware of it before, true, but now it was inside him. It was his lullaby, his mother's song, that somehow had morphed into a battle cry. And now again was a song of comfort. 

Stiles could see that Scott had exhausted himself in making that statement. In letting his words carry power. His brother could barely stand up now so he was there to support him. 

"Scott?"

Mrs. McCall came to hug her son, but she was also hugging him and Allison. And his own father was there too, and Chris Argent and Isaac and Danny and Lydia and Derek and Cora. He could feel his own magic flow through all of them, mostly Scott and Allison, but the whole pack was part of them too. 

They had taken the Nemeton. The sanctuary. The Darkness Deaton had talked about. And worst of it, it felt nice, which meant that they had to be super careful not to let it take over them, seducing it with powers and fancy stuff and all that shit, otherwise they'd gone power crazy. 

Once, he had been offered to become a werewolf and as much as he wanted it, he had rejected it for a simple reason - he knew he couldn't be trusted with power. He was too manic, too quick to jump to conclusions, too fast to decide killing was a good solution to the problem at hand. That's why he was always thankful of Scott, that even after all these years and all the ADHD and all the sarcasm and wit and barb and banter Scott was still his friend, because Scott was his moral compass. Scott was the one who kept him grounded. 

Stiles was afraid that may not be enough anymore. 

Scott must've felt his fears - hello, Alpha - because he was making an effort to stand up and hug him a bit more strongly. 

"Hey, Scottie. We are OK."

"What did they do to you? They made me slash myself all over. I had my claws going through my stomach."

"They made me believe dad was telling shit about me. Real shit. Mom related shit. Don't worry," he smiled when he saw Scott's jaw slacken in grief, "I'm better now. I think we are all better now, right?"

"The Nemeton."

Mrs. McCall was approaching the trunk of the old tree, right hand extended. She touched it gingerly. 

"It sings. It's beautiful."

"Yeah, well, Deaton said there will be Darkness around our hearts. That's why we've been so down - and maybe why I jumped so quickly into a relationship with..."

"I see it. The Darkness." Stiles frowned at Scott's mom. "It's in it. It's part of it. But it's not its core. It's more like... What are you?" Suddenly a robin landed on her shoulder, and started chirping happily.

"Mom, are you Snow White now?"

"Scott, quiet."

Lydia also touched the Nemeton, like she was trying to get something out of it as well. Isaac just touched it for the sake of touching it, while everybody else remained behind. 

"It's about balance. Where there is light, there's darkness. It's a grove, a sanctum, and a prison. Because there can't be pure light without shadows."

"Mom, are you talking to the Nemeton?"

"I already talk to the woods. It doesn't feel odd anymore."

"What does it mean?"

"The Nemeton saw you, when you were trying to rescue us. It deemed you worthy of the role of Guardians. Because you were capable of a selfless act out of selfishness."

"Yeah, yeah, Finstock said something like that a while ago, remember? It doesn't matter - it's evil, it's dark, it's -"

"Ours," Scott spoke, looking at the tree as well, "It's ours, Stiles, and we've taken it. We can't run from it anymore, like we've been trying."

"Does that mean we'll become evil?"

"Stiles. Just because you are more aware of the darkness in you doesn't mean you'll fall for it. Everybody has both good and evil in their heart - it's choosing one over the other what makes us who we are, not what is imposed on us." His father had started hugging him again and Stiles let himself go in the arms of his old man. He could almost hear his mom again. 

"Let's go home."

"Oh my god - the house?"

"Mom?"

"Er, we were attacked at the house..."

"What happened?"

Derek was the one to give Scott, Allison and Chris the story while they walked back. His dad tried to call the station, where apparently there was a panic due to half the station being present in a crime scene - and very aware of what they had done, if not of their motivations. 

Rafael McCall came to pick them up with several police cars. Nobody wanted to ride with him, so Chris Argent did. Everybody else got into the Station's van which the Sheriff drove back to the Stilinski house where they all settled in its living room, even after McCall had insisted that his dad needed to go with him immediately. Mrs. McCall forced him to stay, actually, to hold court to him, since apparently now she was honor bound to have it. 

"My name is Rafael McCall and I am here to assess the danger the supernatural represents to the human population."

"What does it entail to assess, Rafael McCall?"

It was odd, watching the exchange, not unlike those scenes in the medieval movies - or the Tudors.

"It was our understanding that this was no man's land, and the reason why there had been so many attacks. Since you have claimed territory we'll limit ourselves to observe, and if we feel adequate, to advise. Unless the non magical townsfolk are attacked - in which we feel our duty is to intervene, hopefully to help you."

"Do you need anything from us?"

"Just confirmation that it was Sabrina Warren and her coven who attacked you. We've arrested them as they tried to flee the town. Here's a picture of them." Mrs. McCall nodded - it had been them alright. "They'll be tried and convicted under the human courts, with a case built around their atrocities. You may be called to be witnesses. All of you."

"Understood. Anything else, Rafael?"

Stiles could see that old Blobfish wanted to talk to Scott, but the way he was standing next to Mrs. McCall was addressing him with a big _Fuck you_. Stiles grinned. 

Rafael shook his head, bowed and left. Not before telling his father that he needed to go to the station to try and sort everything back at the station. 

That didn't matter for the moment. They were all alive, all together, and the only thing they could think of was who was going to go to Minnie's and bring the food they all needed to eat. Derek immediately offered and his dad tossed him the keys to the cruiser, saying that it would be the first time he'd be riding on the front. 

When he came back with a huge order of eggs and bacon for his dad Stiles made sure Derek was the butt of his jokes for hours - since particularly Mrs. McCall and Scott ganged on him on letting him have such an unhealthy breakfast. 

But then, the picture of his mother smiled at him from the counter. Maybe they were going to be alright.


	7. Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both siblings started crying, and their cries became sobs, and their sobs became howls. 
> 
> Something inside him mourned the Hales the same as if he had met them for long, and he couldn't help but tilt his head back and let the mourn escape through his throat. Right behind him, Isaac started howling as well, and then Lydia was vocalizing and Danny was rattling his tambourine and an Aria of Sorrow could be heard through the woods, echoing from the walls of the old Manor, carrying through the entire forest. 
> 
> Even the woods joined in their wake, birds and mammals and insects all singing their sorrow.

When Derek told him he'd be going to the remnants of the Hale Manor with Cora to pay his respects, Scott didn't even blink before asking him if he needed the pack's company. Derek didn't answer, but the small tug of his mouth upwards when he saw everybody get off their cars (and Scott didn't have to cajole or alpha any of them, he just asked) was enough. They all followed Derek and Cora from the edge of the woods into the old clearing, his mom behind the first two, he in front of everyone else. Derek and Cora entered what little the woods had left intact of their old home and knelt next to the small oak in the middle of it, leaving the flowers they had brought next to it. 

Both siblings started crying, and their cries became sobs, and their sobs became howls. 

Something inside him mourned the Hales the same as if he had met them for long, and he couldn't help but tilt his head back and let the mourn escape through his throat. Right behind him, Isaac started howling as well, and then Lydia was vocalizing and Danny was rattling his tambourine and an Aria of Sorrow could be heard through the woods, echoing from the walls of the old Manor, carrying through the entire forest. 

Even the woods joined in their wake, birds and mammals and insects all singing their sorrow. 

They let the song go on for a while, until Derek and Cora themselves had tired of their howls and let their grief continue in the form of soundless sobs. His own mother came to them and comforted them, and he couldn't help to feel sorry for them when he saw Derek cling to her like his life depended on it. The Sheriff was hugging his son the same way Chris Argent was holding his daughter, reminded of the losses they have also suffered. He stepped back, letting them grief, and found himself next to Lydia and Danny, who could only - just like him - witness the scene in front of them. She opened her hand in a welcoming gesture, and he laced his fingers through hers.

A jet of fog started to rise from the ground itself, cold and yet welcoming to the touch. 

He was the first to feel them coming to his territory. They came from the East, walking, bare feet crunching the leaves with noiseless steps. His mother looked in the direction as well, and then all the wolves, and lastly the humans, when the two of them became more than silhouettes indistinguishable in the fog.

He knew that as the Alpha he had to welcome them. 

"Erica. Boyd."

"Scott McCall, we ask your permission to enter your territory."

They both knelt and bared their throats. Scott blinked at them.

"Er... a little help here?"

"You are supposed to greet us or kill us, Scott."

"You are already dead?"

"For crying out loud, just greet us!"

Erica rolled her eyes so strongly it seemed they would get stuck to the back of her head permanently. 

Scott went and nuzzled her neck, and then kissed both of her cheeks. He went to Boyd but only nuzzled him - he wasn't so sure he would be so welcoming on the kissing. As soon as he step back and smiled at them Erica jumped and hugged him, and Boyd as well.

"Can we...?"

As much as he was happy to see them, they were not there for him.

"Be my guests. You _are_ my guests."

Erica and Boyd ran after Derek, who could only gape at them. 

"Erica? Boyd?"

"So... are you going to stay there or greet us properly?"

Derek clumsily got up and went after them, hugging them. Scott could feel Isaac on the tip of his toes, trying not to interrupt the moment the former alpha had with his betas and yet wanting to be part of it, the old Hale pack together once again. 

"Why - ? What are you doing here?"

"Don't mind us. We are not the only one."

"What?"

But Scott was already looking East again. He felt all of them, walking behind her who was their alpha. He even knew he only needed to greet her in order to grant passage to all of them. She approached him and knelt the same way the other two had. 

"Scott McCall, in the name of my pack I ask permission to enter your territory."

"Talia Hale, welcome home."

And as soon as he finished greeting her all the Hales broke rank to go with their living relatives, his Dark Knight and the Little Girl under the Pelt. 

"Thank you, alpha McCall."

"Please, Mrs. Hale, call me Scott."

"Only if you call me Talia."

"I'll try!"

And he stepped aside to let her talk to her children. Erica and Boyd had moved on to Isaac who had basically jumped at them and hugged them and roughhoused with them and Scott couldn't help but _smile_ and he could see all his pack, even Danny, were smiling at the scene.

"Where's Laura?" Derek asked, surveying her family.

"I'm right here. Wreck! I've been here for a while now." Laura Hale had appeared in the middle of all of them, kissing and hugging and smiling at her family. The younger children went after Stiles, calling him Fool and chasing him while Scott's mother and the Sheriff talked to Talia and Randall Hale.

Scott knew it was him and Lydia who were doing this, for Derek, for Cora. He looked at her but she looked as bewildered as he was, and maybe it was the first time he had accessed the power of the Sanctum since that night. Maybe the fact that Isaac was happy too was what allowed them to merge their powers so easily. 

He wished he could do it for Isaac, for Allison, for Stiles. He wished he knew how he could increase Lydia's ability to bring the dead, even if just for a little while.

"Isaac, stop doing that to my girlfriend. I may get jealous."

"Girlfriend? Like, did you guys, while dead?"

"It was kind of obvious we were feeling something when we ran away, and we did bond over being captured. But yeah, you can say we became more joined when we died. And shut it, Boyd, I'm liking it."

"Yeah? Besides, you are like my sister."

"Oh, am I? What would Camden say of that?"

"I'd probably be OK with it, I mean, have you looked how awesome you are? I'd be basically getting you as my sister too."

Isaac twisted so quickly he almost dropped Erica down. The ghost of Camden Lahey opened his arms and hugged his brother who broke into crying. Scott couldn't help but shed a tear too at Isaac's happiness. 

"Hey, hey, hey, fur-man, no need to cry."

"Your nicknames still suck, asshole."

"Isaac, language."

It was not Camden who said that. A petite woman did, standing next to both boys. 

"Mom?"

The woman - Isaac's mom - smiled, and she look as every bit angelic as her son did when he smiled. Even some of the others had stopped to see the exchange and commented on the beauty of the woman standing right there. Isaac just hugged her and cried very messily. Erica and Boyd stepped back, like if that had been their plan all along - to distract him into the surprise. 

Scott saw Allison and her father whispering to themselves, and he could see the resolve settling in her face. Swallowing her fears, Allison walked to Erica and Boyd.

"Erica. Boyd."

"Allison." Boyd was his usual stoic, but Erica looked completely unimpressed.

"I wanted - no, I need to apologize. For what I did."

"Drop it, Allison. We'll talk about it later."

"What? Why?"

"Someone's here to see you."

Allison covered her mouth at the idea, but when she turned, the form of Victoria Argent was standing right next to her husband, who looked like he wanted to faint. They both went after her and hugged her and started sharing their latest experiences. 

Even when Victoria looked at him in the eye to express her gratitude he couldn't help but feel scared of her. Probably a wise feeling. 

Erica and Boyd sauntered to where Scott, Lydia and Danny were standing, a bit detached of the scene since none of them had ghosts to deal with - and Stiles was still playing with the infant Hales (or rather, demolished by them). Scott could see them together, the way Erica's head rested on Boyd's chest while looking at the families together. He wanted to ask if they knew what he and Lydia were doing, but he felt that knowing would break the spell. 

He just wanted to see the pack happy. 

The littlest of the Hales, Jack, tugged at his sleeve.

"Mister Alpha?"

"What's up little man? You can call me Scott, you know?"

"But you are the alpha."

"That doesn't mean you have to call me that. The same way you don't call Talia alpha all the time."

"I call her auntie." The kid smiled a toothy smile, "but it's cool to call you Mister Alpha. Sounds awesome." Scott just smiled at him - he knew he would not get him out of that line. Lydia and Danny chuckled behind him. "Mister Alpha, the Fool is tired." The kid actually pouted at the idea of Stiles tiring of playing with him. 

But yeah, Stiles was panting by the time he and Rose joined them, looking completely white and like he had run a marathon. For a boy that ran with wolves, apparently his best friend could barely keep with a couple of werewolf cubs.

"Why... do you... keep... calling me... a Fool?"

Even the Sheriff laughed at his son's question, seeing the scene from where he was.

"Because that's what you, are, son."

But the Sheriff's hadn't been the only voice who said that. Scott immediately recognized it, even if it had been several years when he had heard its owner. He immediately helped Stiles to get up - he seemed to had fallen just because of hearing it - and moved him to run towards the ghost of -.

"Mom?"

"Claudia?"


	8. John

Stiles had spent so much time with him, it was a bit disconcerting. He understood. Instead of lying and squirming his way out of an explanation, like he would have done a lifetime ago, this time Stiles had told him everything. How he had been captured. How he had been hallucinating him at his worst. How he had felt his mother's presence soothing him and and bringing him back from the brink. How that had allowed him to come back so they - all of them, he included - could go and rescue Scott and Allison and destroy the coven of witches that was in town. His son apologized a thousand times for thinking of him like that but every time it happened all he could do was hug him even harder against his body, letting his blood and heartbeat do all the work for him. Couple of nights after the nightmare had ended, Stiles was relaxing into the hugs a little. Just a little. 

John and Stiles had the tradition of visiting Claudia's grave at least four times a year: her birthday, his birthday, Stiles' and Christmas. So it hadn't surprised him at all when Scott had called them, saying that even though Derek hadn't said if he and Cora wanted them around he wanted to see if everybody was available to go with them to mourn their family. It made sense that they did, after all the running and the hiding they had done, after finally finding a new family, that they wanted to do so. Visit their grave. Sadly, their grave had once been their home. Stiles agreed immediately. And seeing Derek Hale attempt to smile for the first time in all the time they knew him had been worth waking up so early.

They followed Scott into the preserve until they reached the remnants of the Hale manor. There they were witness to one of the most haunting events in John's life, and that was including his stint during Iran. He knew he was part of the pack and he couldn't help but cry with his mates when all the wolves howled. He could even feel it in his bones - not unlike when Scott had been captured. 

He could even feel it in the woods, an aria of sorrow. 

He also felt the fog coming out of the ground, which didn't make sense. But then he saw the ghosts of Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd - where they ghosts if they were physical? They looked physical when Scott nuzzled them - and he realized there was magic going on. 

If he hadn't, the sight of the Hale family would've convinced him dead on the spot. 

He had met the Hales before. Talia Hale had been a renowned lawyer and although her cases seldom took her to the Beacon Hills courthouse - she was a powerhouse, celebrities all the way from L.A. would come to her - she would dedicate ten percent of her firm's billable hours to pro bono work that would happen in the community. That had been a tradition Whittemore kept alive when he took over. Randall Hale's restaurant had been his favorite until it closed down because nobody wanted to own the restaurant of a dead man. It was his little getaway - Claudia had never been particularly fond of offal, while John had enjoyed a good Liver and Onions every once in a while. 

He grabbed Mel's hand when she came back to him after holding the Hale boy. Now he had his mother and his father and his whole family and seemed to be getting some peace after all. 

"How do you think they are doing it?"

"Coming back?"

"No, bringing them in - this is completely Scott and Lydia. Look."

He looked at them and the portion of him that felt violently protective of Scott and Mel could tell that there was something going on with those two. 

"Even the woods are marveled at it. They say they are helping as much as they can, guiding her magic, but - and I quote - for someone so young she is certainly doing great things."

"Maybe is the Nemeton. Isn't it supposed to be a source of power? Scott may be tapping into it."

"Maybe."

They just looked for a while - everybody was. At some point the Elder Hales broke from the group and came to them.

"Mother. Ser Knight."

Talia bowed her head to Mel, while Randall did the same to him. 

"Talia Hale. I'm Melissa, Melissa McCall."

"Nice to officially meet you, Melissa. This is my husband, Randall."

"An honor, madam."

"He's charming."

"Sheriff."

"Talia, Randall."

"You know me?"

"I used to go to your restaurant. Your liver and onions was fantastic."

"Good to know."

"How... how are you even here?"

"Your son. Your sons. And the girls."

"They are that powerful?"

"And they've just begun."

"Talia, if you mind me asking, what does it mean that I am the Mistress of the Woods? You had that title."

"Mostly that you are host to their sentience. They are not that bad, really - they mostly warn you of stuff coming through. You'll have to get your way into the City Council though, particularly when it comes to land exploitation discussions. You'll feel the need to protect them, but they'll protect you back."

"Does this mean I'll be stuck here all my life?"

"No. But you'll always come back."

"What about Scott? What about Stiles?"

"I don't know about them, and the Argent girl. They are the guardians of the Nemeton, and that involves far much more than I ever did for it - I was just its caretaker. But now that it's woken again, they are playing by a different set of rules."

"Don't fret much, though," Randall had kept quiet, "your sons were deemed worthy. The Nemeton took them in. It's not like its gonna turn them into slaves or anything."

"You and your love for fatalistic stories."

"I married a werewolf, I had to create an outlet."

"You were human, Randall?"

"Yes. And Anastasia. There have always been humans in the werewolf packs. Just like the emissaries, we serve to remind them of their humanity. Besides, what is to stop you from falling in love?"

They looked like lovestruck teenagers, and John wondered if he could ever feel the same. But he looked at Mel and he realized that he _did_ feel the same. 

"Thank you. For not rejecting them."

"They are our sons! We would never do that."

"Not many would be able to say those words. And you know it."

Mel encroached into his chest, and he raised an arm protectively. He could feel her fear, and her anger, at all that had happened. Talia smiled at her, encouragingly. 

"For half a millennium my family has protected this land. We were bound to it just like you are right now, and yet we were whatever we wanted to be. The same will happen to yours. Not only is Scott far more powerful than any of the Hales were by being a True Alpha, he's also aided by some of the greatest people we have ever seen, including you two. I am not asking you to not be afraid, because it would be foolish. I'm asking you to have faith, because we do."

Mel nodded at them, and the Hales went back to their brothers and sisters. 

"Do you think it'll be OK?"

"I know it will, Mel."

They stood there, letting the scene unfold in front of their eyes. Isaac seeing his brother and his mother. The Argents seeing Victoria Argent again. They even watched the little Hale kids harass Stiles like he was their plaything and he couldn't help but smile at the scene. 

He was happy. His pack was happy. The only thing that would've make it better was if she was there as well, but a part of him felt guilty of wanting it - since he was with Mel now. 

Not that he would never forget her. She'd always live in his heart. 

But then again, he hadn't come close to the grave the last time they went to put flowers. The guilt had been too much. 

Apparently the children had been too much of a toll on Stiles since the littlest was tugging at Scott's shirt - and calling him Mister Alpha. And calling Stiles a fool.

"Why... do you... keep... calling me... a Fool?" John laughed. It was obvious to everyone that Stiles was a fool. A very intelligent one, but a fool nonetheless.

"Because that's what you, are, son."

He knew his mouth opened in a perfect 'o'. He could not believe what he had heard - that his voice had not been the only one, but looking at Stiles trip was almost as much confirmation as he needed. But still, he had to ask.

"Claudia?"

"My, my, deputy, I didn't know I had tickets to the gun show!"

The voice, the purr, the caressing of his arm through short sleeve uniform. The old joke between the two of them, having met at a carnival when they were high school students.

He turned around and kissed her. She could be a skeleton for all he cared - he wanted to kiss her, and hug her, and kiss her again. And he laughed and she laughed and they kissed again and he couldn't help but feel happy of seeing his wife right there with him. 

"Hey! Stop smooching! I want hugs too!"

And of course they parted so Stiles could hug both of them. She was there, flesh and blood and tears and warmth in their embrace.

"Alright, let me look at you. Oh no - you were crying like a baby back there, I couldn't get a proper look at you. C'mon, step back, arms up." His son opened his eyes round and wide while Claudia looked at him properly. "The hair doesn't look that good on you - either let it grow more or buzz it again. Stupid Adderall, keeping you skinny - look at Scott, much better filled out than you."

"He's a werewolf, they come with prepackaged muscles - have you seen Derek Hale?"

"Yes I have," John was sured he blushed and sure Derek had blushed all the way back to where he was, "and what's with the plaid? You had blazers!"

"They could get ruined! Blood!"

But Claudia just smirked at him. 

"Oh, you are pulling my leg. You are pulling my leg! OH MY GOD!"

"Stiles..." John couldn't help but chuckle along Claudia - and apparently Mel. Claudia turned to look at her, then walked to her and curtsied. But when she looked at her the devious smile was there again. A smile John knew Mel knew too well.

"Oh, don't you dare."

"Mother Mel, I never thought the age would suit you so well."

Mel looked aghast, Stiles looked like he wanted to die in the spot and Scott was looking at them with that confounded expression he sported less and less now. But then both women squealed and hugged each other and cried at each other and the boys understood that they were joking. 

"Well, well, well, look at you - all fancy shmancy Mistress of the Woods."

"You jealous?"

"Nah, you earned it. After all, you took care of them," she nodded at him and Stiles, "thank you. Thank you for everything, Mel."

"I just tried. I am even sure I could've done better."

"No. You did enough. That's more than I could've ever asked from you."

"Claudia..."

"I know. I know. I live in his heart, after all."

"Are you OK with it?" John asked, nervously. This had been what had scared him so much about it - that he would be dishonoring the memory of his wife. But she just cuffed him in the back of his head. 

"OK? I've been shipping you two since I died!" She cuffed him again. "Why did it take you so long to get your head out of your ass? There's the reason why our son can't even ask someone out on a date!"

"OH MY GOD, MOM!"

"Oh my God, Claudia!"

"What? You know it's true!"

John knew he had the same expression as his son, wanting the Earth to swallow him whole, but Claudia was smiling again, and Mel was smiling too - if a bit embarassed herself. Only some of the Hales were paying attention, and the children of his pack, but the Laheys and the Argents were not, thankfully. 

"I just want you to be happy, with whoever that is."

"I don't want to dishonor you."

"You are not dishonoring me. You are honoring me by being happy."

"I didn't want anyone take your place."

"They won't. Mel definitely won't. But you need to be happy again."

"Claudia. My girl."

"John. My stile."

And she kissed him again. And he didn't want it to stop. 

It did. But then they talked, the three of them, and Melissa was there too, and Scott, and he felt happy.

Until Scott started breathing heavily, like he used to when he had asthma. They all knew it meant that the dead were leaving them once more. 

But it was not a _good-bye_. It was a _See you soon_.

"Come on, fellas, we have to go."

Claudia was the first to leave, a kiss and a hug in her wake. Victoria Argent disappeared after making her daughter promise that she would honor her new code - We protect those who can't protect themselves - and assured Chris that it was OK for him to belong in the pack. The Laheys departed when Camden finally stopped teasing Isaac, and the Hales went one by one paying their respects to Scott, until only Laura remained behind Derek, and then she wasn't there anymore. 

The fog was gone, and night had fallen. 

He turned to look at Scott, who regained his strength as soon as his life force was not feeding the ghosts anymore. But then, he realized not all of them had gone.

"Erica? Boyd?"

The girl immediately started chewing her lip, like she was holding a secret that tried to escape. The boy stood more stoically even if it had seemed impossible before.

"Why are you guys still here?"

"Why I don't feel you anymore?" Lydia asked. "I felt all the ghosts, but you, I don't feel you." 

Erica raised her head and looked at Scott, but for a moment her eyes bore on Melissa.

"We... we are meant to stay."

"Stay? As in, alive?"

"Yes."

John saw the conflict in every one's faces. It was obvious they all wanted them to be alive. But it was evident that it was not something that was supposed to happen.

"How?" Lydia had been the one to ask, the one who could commune with the dead.

"We are supposed to be presents. For Scott."

"Presents? What kind of presents? Presents for me?"

"From whom?" Mel's voice was thin and high. He couldn't remember hearing her so scared before - not even when Scott had been about to die. She had always steeled through.

Again Erica looked at her, eyes gleaming with tears of fear. He knew it was fear - he could read it in the girl's body.

"From his godmother."

Boyd's words felt kind of fatalistic. "She says she can't wait to meet him."

Mel gasped and stumbled. He couldn't catch her before she lost her footing.

"Mom?"

"Dude, I didn't know you had a godmother?"

"Me neither, Stiles. Mom, what's going on?"

But Mel didn't answer. All she could do was stare at Erica and Boyd, and John could hear her sob quietly. Scott immediately came to his mother and knelt next to her, hugging her. The pack - John included - closed ranks around her.

"Mom, what is it? Mom?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Scott, I never thought it was real. I mean, how could I? It had been... I was young... I didn't believe..."

"Mom, it's OK. It's alright."

"No, it isn't. I'm sorry."

"Mel, what is it?" He knew everybody was scared now - what could possibly be so terrible that Mel would only sob now? Why would the idea of Erica and Boyd being presents scare her so much? Besides the fact that they had just pulled a Lazarus, that is. "Mel, who is Scott's godmother?"

"Death," he could barely hear her voice, and yet he felt it in his bones, the same way Scott's howl could be felt from anywhere, "Death herself."

A light breeze came through the woods, rattling the leaves. The Sheriff immediately tried to pin point the source, but it had come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. All they could do was cross their arms and hug each other, feeling the cold that had fallen.


	9. Epilogue

For the first time in a long time, Alexandros decided to get drunk.

He had long ago decided it was a waste of money to get like this on his own. He felt only sad and pathetic drunks did it alone. He would always go out - and whore himself until someone bought him a drink. It had been even easier back when he had actually been a whore, living in brothels were alcohol and blood would run freely, sometimes a requirement to make the assignments easier to digest. After all he had never been too fond of the amount of hygiene on pirate ships. Not exactly the highest. 

The poison of choice for the night? Tequila. You couldn't find a decent mezcal bottle in North California and he was not going to drive all the way down to Los Angeles for a bottle of liquor. And he wanted the company, damn it. Even if again he was feeling alone in the middle of a sea of faces.

Fuck. He missed Danny.

He downed another shot. He could drown his memory, couldn't he?

No, he couldn't. He had only felt that way for Laika, and that had been more than a millenium ago. 

Maybe it was the moon. She had been a moonsinger, too. 

He downed another one. He knew he could get drunk easily on tequila, and more easily with mezcal. Wine never worked. He used to drink it watered down when he lived in his father's palace, and then when he was an apprentice of the old nose-job.

He could feel their eyes, from both of them. She had brought her best gay friend to act as a scapegoat against assholes but she was definitely looking to get laid. He had agreed because he was in a funk and now was looking at the possibility of ditching her and getting himself laid. Maybe he could talk them into a threesome. 

He had make up on his face tonight. The scars were barely visible.

He needed to forget Danny's arm around his torso, the way the boy had caressed him after they had had sex. How he had liked to cuddle on his lap and fall asleep there, lulled by his heartbeat. 

He had had to lie about why it was so slow. 

Maybe one more shot before he approached them. He could still stand, right?

"Karahalios, I never thought I'd see a minor in a bar getting so drunk."

The bartender's eyes opened in fear. He didn't need to worry. His passport was completely legit. 

"I am afraid you are mistaking me for my little brother, sir. I came to bury him. Seneca Karahalios, mister..."

It was a charade mostly for the patrons. He would not get them in trouble if he could.

"Agent Rafael McCall, FBI. In that case, I apologize - but you are his spitting image. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Are you on duty?"

"No, just a man looking to relax after such a complicated week."

Ah, yes. _Well, asshole_ , Alex thought, _that's what you get for getting in the middle of supernatural business_. 

"I can't imagine."

"I'm pretty sure you can. Whiskey on the rocks, please."

The bartender gave him his drink. Alex couldn't help but curse the man: his would-be companions of the night (if they had agreed, of course) were probably now thinking him gone. 

More tequila, then.

"What do you want, McCall?"

"To be honest? Just to drink away all that happened in the past couple of months. To pretend it never happened. To pretend my ex-wife is still a nurse. That my son is still an asthmatic teenager. That the reason my family is torn to pieces is just my rage issues and not the fact that I had to hide my true job from them. That I didn't snap at them because I feared for their safety." McCall sipped his whiskey, but then decided it would be better to down it in one gulp. 

Alex just laughed at him. 

"I'm sorry - I thought you were here on a mission, or to try to arrest me, or to try and coax answers out of me. I really didn't expect you to be here to try and get drunk. You really just sat next to me because I'm the only person you know in here?"

"You are not. However, you may be the only one who wouldn't get up as soon as I approached them."

"Oh wow. Skip! Get this man a shot of tequila! He's fucking earned it."

"You are drunk, Karahalios."

"Totally. Toe-taling. I don't know, I may be using the wrong slang here. You are Mexican, aren't you? Ponte pedo conmigo, cabron."

"Don't be racist."

"Fine. Suit yourself. I won't talk in Spanish. But you'll have to forgive the Greek that may show up - it is my mother tongue after all."

McCall shrugged and downed his tequila shot. Before he could say anything Alex signaled Skip to bring another one. 

"Why are you getting drunk?"

"I'm celebrating!"

"What, being alive?" Alex sputtered the drink he was supposed to be drinking and laughed heartily. Even McCall laughed with him. 

"Being alive. No - that is not a reason to celebrate, no matter how much you humans value to be alive."

"So you don't consider yourself human?" McCall asked him. He just smiled at him. 

"How could I, if a requirement for humanity is the capability of dying?"

"Then what are you celebrating?"

"You know, McCall, I'm really enjoying your company right now and if I tell you you'll hate me, so let's keep it a secret, shall we?"

McCall shrugged.

McCall...

McCall...?

"God, I'm stupid."

"What is it, Karahalios?"

"McCall. The War Bringer. Of course she's here because of your son - he probably inherited your name, didn't he?" McCall had cringed at the use of his True Name, but didn't do anything otherwise. "That is your True Name. God, I mean, I wasn't sure but now it is obvious. Well, I am definitely celebrating now!" He saw McCall cringe again, like the idea of him not knowing the reason of celebrating went again his basic principles. "Oh, stop worrying. What I am celebrating won't put you, not anyone in Beacon Hills, in danger."

He was celebrating that he had a favor from a Goddess herself. From a Goddess with the power to do what _he_ wanted. But why, why was she bound to a werewolf?

Unless it was the other way around?

"I am cringing because you deduced something out of my name. That falls under the rules of trading, which means now I get to ask something of you."

"A question. Go ahead. But please don't hate me - I am really enjoying your company. If it weren't because I don't peg you for a backdoor guy I'd say we should go and get some afterwards."

"I'm flattered, but a: you look like jailbait, and b: you are too drunk to consent properly. Maybe another time."

"Well, color me surprised. I'll call you tomorrow, my lawyer has your number."

"What information did you glean from my name?"

"I just confirmed a suspicion. Yeesh, don't give me that look! It's not about you - it's about Scott. I confirmed that a member of his pack is more than they seem."

"All of the members of that pack are more than they seem."

"And you know this how?"

McCall raised his left eyebrow in a way that reminded Alex too much of Scott. 

"Skip! Bring us two meads please. Shots." He turned to McCall, "I actually can't stand the stuff."

The bartender came with two tall shot glasses full of golden syrupy liquid. 

"A toast, Rafael McCall, to an alliance. To find out what is about the McCall pack that makes them so special."

Rafael looked at him cautiously.

"Fine. Each keeps who they are. But in the realm of possibilities, we share info, we tell tales, we drink under the same light. A partnership."

"A toast, Alexandros Karahalios, to an alliance, to a partnership. To find out what is about my son that makes this territory so dangerous."

Glasses clinked, drops intertwined and both men downed the liquor. McCall seemed to enjoy it while Alex gagged himself in disgust, like he had swallowed a particularly gross medicine. 

"Very well, then. Tell, me, McCall..."

"Rafael is fine. We are partners."

"Rafael then - oh, in that case call me Alex - no, wait, Seneca, call me Seneca when we are in public - tell me: What do you know about the Morrigan?"

"The Queen of Ghosts?"

Alex smiled ferally. It had been a while since he had used that smile. A bit over a hundred years, actually.

"Exactly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it. That's the season finale. As you can see these three chapters are mostly there to open the theme for the new season!
> 
> I may take a while until I update, though. The next season does require a lot of research on my part and well, I do have a full time job. This fic already ate a lot of my time. Fret not! I will continue. Just... it'll just take longer. 
> 
> Again, a reminder: I tumblr at alan713ch.tumblr.com
> 
> Also, if you liked the story, remember to leave a review and mention it to your friends. Nothing motivates me more than reading your fabulous comments!
> 
> Cheers!


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